Table for Two: The Sarah & Barba Series
by girlattherockshow2
Summary: A prequel to "Shut Up and Dance." Rafael is having a sadly subpar meal by himself when he has a surprise dinner companion. Part 2 of the Sarah & Barba series. SUPER fluffy goodness here. Don't take it too seriously. :) If anyone has any requests for more one-shots with these two, I'll take them!


At least the drinks were strong.

That's really all Rafael could say about his dinner at Bianci's, a new Italian restaurant that had its grand opening during the city's restaurant week. Everyone he knew who had been here had raved about it, so he'd made a reservation the following week. He had to call in a favor from a defense attorney friend who knew the owner to get a reservation, which had initially been for two; he'd invited Olivia, who, as a single parent, hardly ever made it out these days. Unfortunately, Noah came down with a fever that afternoon, so Olivia had to back out at the last minute. His day had been so busy that he hadn't had time to find a replacement, but he didn't want to give up the reservation.

Sadly, however, he felt that Olivia had dodged a bullet. The food wasn't exactly bad, but it certainly wasn't worth wasting a favor. The pasta was bland, the calamari was soggy, and the tiramisu tasted too much like rum and not enough like anything else. But he had ordered a tried-and-true scotch before dinner, and he still had some of it in his glass, so he decided to enjoy it and then go home with takeout. Not exactly the sophisticated evening he'd had in mind.

He took out his phone and opened his email, hoping that once it refreshed, he would have a message from… someone. Even if it was work related, it would give him something to focus on besides the fact that he was eating an overpriced, underwhelming dinner by himself. He ordinarily wouldn't be melancholy about dining alone. God knows he was used to it by now, forty years old and a single workaholic. But he had been looking forward to catching up with Olivia. He didn't often feel social, but with her, it was easy to speak openly and honestly. Since Alex had gone to prison, she had become his best friend. And despite the fact that they SAW each other often, they didn't TALK very much anymore. He hated to admit it, but he missed her. As he took another sip of scotch, he let out a shaky sigh.

Suddenly, a young woman, no more than twenty-five years old, plopped down in the chair across from him and, without looking up, tossed a small notepad onto the table and her purse on the floor. She stared at her phone, texting away with both hands while occasionally glancing at the notepad, ignoring him completely. He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out what the appropriate response was when a strange woman sat down at your table as if she'd just returned from a trip to the restroom.

"Excuse me," he said. "I think-"

"One minute," she replied, holding up one finger while she continued typing with her other hand. Rafael stared at her, his mouth hanging open just a bit. _What the hell is happening? This can't be real._ "Juuuuust one…" She finally stopped typing and tossed her phone down on the table, finally looking up at him. She seemed taken aback for a second, and then her eyes got very wide. Rafael noticed that, though they were hazel, they seemed to be tinted the blue of her shirt. He supposed it was a trick of the light. Still, they were very pretty, not unlike the rest of her. Her short, cinnamon hair complimented her freckled skin, and her rounded face gave her a soft, very feminine look.

"Oh my God," she said. "I am so sorry!" Grabbing her phone from the table, she shoved it into her purse on the floor. Obviously flustered, her pale skin turned a deep scarlet. As she tried to push away from the table, she must have kicked her purse because she looked down and muttered a curse. She got off the chair and crouched down next to it, scooping things hurriedly back into the bag. She popped back up from the floor but avoided eye contact, apologized again, and headed for a table two rows over from Rafael.

 _Well, that was certainly interesting,_ he thought. At least it made for a good story. He finished the last of his scotch, threw a few bills down on the table to cover his check, and debated whether or not to write an unfavorable Yelp review when he got home. As he pushed his chair in, something caught his eye: the woman's notepad still sat, opened, on the corner of the table. He wondered if there was anything personal in it that he ought not to look at, but knew he couldn't just leave it there. Ordinarily, he would have just given it to a hostess to deal with, but since his would-be companion was sitting just a few tables over, he figured he could just as easily take it right to her. He closed its cover and walked toward her table, on which sat nothing but a basket of bread. She sipped a glass of wine absentmindedly, staring into her phone again. He hoped she wasn't as jumpy as she was distractible. He tried to get her attention by softly clearing his throat, but when that didn't work, he had to risk startling her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said. Her head immediately jerked up, and she dropped the phone into her lap. Standing in front of her was the distinguished-looking, light-eyed man from a few tables over.

"Oh, God. Please don't think I'm a nutcase. I really didn't mean to sit with you," she said. Her voice was high-pitched, obviously nervous, but still quite silvery. Rafael shook his head.

"Believe me, if there's anyone who understands being buried in one's cell phone, it's me," he replied. She smiled, and he noticed that one side of her mouth turned up just a little more than the other, giving her a deep dimple. "Anyway, I just came over to give this back to you."

As he set the notebook down, she dropped her head and put her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"Thank you. I swear, I amaze myself. Honestly, I don't know how I got so distracted that I didn't even realize someone was talking to me when I came here ALONE," she said. "I'll blame it on hunger. I wish my food would get here so I can finish working and actually enjoy this wine."

"You're working?"

"I'm a food critic," she said. "A blogger, really. I couldn't make it out here for restaurant week, so I came tonight. That notebook is where I keep track of my thoughts so I can organize them later, but so far they've all been negative. It shouldn't take this long to get a bowl of pasta and some salmon."

"You're not missing much," he said with a shrug. "It took forty-five minutes for me to just get the pasta, and I'm about to go get Chinese."

"Great, so I'm going to embarrass myself AND starve in one night." She took another sip of wine and then cocked her head at him, apparently considering something. She looked him up and down, from his salt-and-peppering hair to his angular nose to his shiny, leather shoes. She didn't think she'd ever seen a man below the age of sixty wearing suspenders, but somehow, they fit him. And his eyes were the most unique shade of green she'd ever seen. _He is kind of cute,_ she thought. _And I've already humiliated myself, so I might as well do it again._

"What?"

"Well," she said, "if you'd be okay sitting through the rest of my horrible dining experience, maybe we could go eat some real food afterward? I know a great little place in the East Village that serves amazing shawarma."

"Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, that's okay. I don't really- I mean, I'm probably not going to be good company." He expected her to react with disappointment or annoyance, but was surprised when she simply shrugged.

"Suit yourself," she replied. "Thanks again for giving me back my notes."

"You're welcome," he said. He nodded at her, and started to head for the door. But halfway there, he stopped. Why had his first inclination been to say no? True, he had no idea who this woman was. He didn't even know her name. And it wasn't in his nature to be impulsive. But the casual way she asked gave him pause, as if she had no fear at all of getting a negative reaction. And when he'd turned her down, she didn't react at all the way he'd expected. It was admirable, really. Intriguing. And after all, he HAD wished he'd been able to get a someone to take Olivia's place. Why did that have to mean someone he already knew? Before he could second guess himself again, he turned around and strode back to the table.

"I should probably ask before I sit, right?"

"Do you really think I'm going to insist on that?" She flashed a quick grin at him. He sat down opposite her and flagged a waiter down to order another drink.

"So what's your name?"

"Sarah, and by the way, I really am sorry to have invaded your evening. And you are?"

Despite himself, he smiled back. "I'm Rafael. And I'm glad you did."


End file.
